


Triptych

by rosewindow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autopsies, Dark!Molly, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other, Teen Years, Threesome - F/M/M, Vandalism, Violence, minor Bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is a bomb. Sebastian is a gun. Molly is a poison.</p><p>*COMPLETE*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

Jim is a bomb. Something relatively innocuous looking, something you might have lying about the house, but put together in a certain way, with the right pressure and the right trigger and it explodes.

Sebastian is a gun. A gentlemanly, sporting, practical thing, but instantly recognizable as dangerous; a useful tool that can wreak havoc in the wrong hands.

Molly is a poison. You don’t realize it’s there in something comforting, warm, perhaps homemade, and then all of a sudden you recognize what’s in front of you just before it kills you.


	2. Panel One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian meets Jim and Molly in the woods. It is the start of a beautiful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene of this is heavily influenced by/directly taken from the art of the fabulous sashkash (on tumblr), with permission. Her art inspired the whole story.

Sebastian had wandered away from the main part of the playground and found himself walking along an overgrown streambed. He scooped up a handful of small stones and rambled along, shooting at things.

He hit a squirrel square between the eyes and heard a little cheer. “Perfect aim!”

Sebastian turned and spotted two kids nearby. The boy wore a cardboard crown and sat neatly on a fallen log, and the girl was kneeling over something on the ground.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

“Sebastian,” he muttered.

“Hello Sebastian. I’m Jim and this here is Molly. Would you like to play a little game with us?”

Sebastian nodded.

“Go and get that squirrel, would you.” It wasn’t really a question.

When Sebastian set the stunned little body down, he realized what they’d been doing. A tiny bird’s body lay between them, and the girl - Molly - was poking at it with a stick.

“It’s wing was broken,” she said softly. “So we put it out of its misery. We wanted to see what was inside, but we haven’t a knife.”

Wordlessly, Sebastian pulled his pocket knife out and placed it in her tiny hand.

They were best friends from then on.

—-

Molly and Jim had been friends since she was five and he was four and a half and she had taught him how to kill slugs with salt. Jim animatedly told him the whole saga while Molly sliced into the dead bird. “And she knows loads about different poisons, it’s quite clever!”

Molly paused in her ministrations to acknowledge the praise.

“You’re new here. You should be friends with us. We have loads of fun.”

“Okay,” Sebastian agreed amicably.

“Gross!” squealed Molly, with obvious delight, as she held up a bloody organ. “It’s the heart.”

Jim darted forward and snapped at Molly’s hand like he was going to eat the heart. Molly laughed and swatted at him with her clean hand. “Jamie! Stop it!”

The thought crossed Sebastian’s mind that these two were probably mental, but oddly enough he realized he didn’t really care. Jim was right; they did have loads of fun.

—-

The first day at school was as awful as Sebastian had anticipated. He was forced to stand in front of the other students and introduce himself, and neither Jim nor Molly was in his class. On the school playground, another boy started to badger him about his accent, but Jim simply appeared beside him, grinning his off-putting grin, and the boy faded away.

“I could’ve just hit him,” Sebastian pointed out.

Jim’s smile grew wider. “I do so love you, Sebby.”

And just like that his day got better.

—-

Sebastian realized quickly that he couldn’t have picked better friends. Jim and Molly weren’t the most popular kids on the playground at an age where that sort of thing was becoming important, but they clearly ruled over everyone in their year. Between the two of them, they could bend anyone to their will, and - best of all - they never got caught. Sebastian had done his fair share of trouble making, but his methods tended to be direct and noticeable. Jim and Molly preferred to keep their distance.

—-

Jim was wearing the cardboard crown again; lounging against a tree and idly listening to the complaints of a boy from the year below them.

“He fancies himself a king, doesn’t he?” Sebastian asked.

Molly giggled. “Yeah, I guess so. He’s always liked to be in charge; helping out ‘his subjects’ because they’re not clever enough to do things for themselves. It’s alright though - it means I get to be queen.” She grinned.

“What does that make me?”

Molly considered for a long moment. “You’re our brave knight.” She laughed again. “We should have a knighting ceremony. Or I could give you a token. Oh!” She pulled the ribbon out of her ponytail and tied it around his wrist. “There. Now you’re ours.”

—-

“Hello there!” Jim always sounded the most dangerous when his voice went all sing-songy.

The two boys he and Sebastian had cornered lowered their spray cans warily. “What d’you want, Ryan?”

Jim grimaced briefly at the use of his surname, but quickly plastered his smile back on. “Just a little favor, boys.”

“Ha! Like we’d do anything for you, you little bollix. Now piss off!”

“Sebastian, dear.”

Sebastian snatched the ringleader’s wrist and wrenched it back, hard.

“Aw Jesus! Oh God, let go! Let go!”

Jim cocked his head and studied the boy carefully. “That’s enough,” he finally decided, with an airy wave of his hand.

The boy clutched his wrist to his chest and glared at Sebastian. “Shit man, oughta be locked up. Fine, what do you want?”

“I want you to burn down a house,” Jim crooned.

“You’re full of it. We don’t do that.”

“You do now.”

“We’ll get nicked for sure.”

“I’ll get you everything you need and tell you how not to get caught. No one will care; stuff gets burned down all the time.”

—-

Jim and Molly had worked on the plan for weeks. The house was just on their side of the peace line, but at the opposite end from the guard station. The guard had been blackmailed to delay reporting the blaze, and wherever Jim had managed to scrounge up the accelerant for the fire, Sebastian was impressed, it was good stuff. The other two were hidden away somewhere in the darkness, because what was the point of burning down a house if you didn’t get to watch the blaze, but Sebastian had been given the duty of keeping the actual arsonists on task.

The plan ensured that they would have enough time to get away before the authorities were called, but Sebastian was still uneasy. The three juvenile delinquents temporarily under his command were skittish and untrustworthy, and he was concerned that they’d scarper before the job was done. He didn’t have Jim’s uncanny ability to manipulate those around him into doing what he wanted, nor did he have Molly’s talent at being overlooked until she became the sharp blade of a knife. He just had his fists and he would have to hope that was enough.

But Jim had done his work well. Under his watchful gaze, the other boys set the fire and got it started. As soon as the hastily piled furniture was burning steadily, Sebastian let them make a run for it. He stood for a few moments longer; the heat from the fire sinking into his bones as it consumed the little room. He walked leisurely away, hearing the sirens start up just as he reached his leaders’ hiding place.

Jim threw an arm around him and kissed his cheek and then did the same to Molly on the other side. Together, the three of them stood and watched their work, feeling as warm as if the flames were just in front of them.

—-

Sebastian wasn’t there when Carl Powers died. Molly was in the stands, and Jim was three lanes over from Carl Powers when he seized and drowned in the middle of a race.

Two nights after Molly and Jim got back from London, all three of them spent the night together.

“Why’d you do it?” Sebastian asked.

Molly reached down to stroke a hand through his hair. “He cheated,” she whispered.

“And he wasn’t even clever about it,” scoffed Jim, tucking Molly tighter against his side.

An outside observer might have thought that they were utterly unconcerned by their actions, but Sebastian had been watching these faces for two years now. Molly was troubled, but Jim was excited in the way that he only got after a plan had gone particularly well.

“And now you have the shoes.”

“Yes, we should probably destroy them.”

“No,” insisted Molly. “We’re keeping them.”

“But why, Molls? It’s not very neat.”

“It’s important. We need to remember this.” Molly’s eyes were glittering now, fierce with purpose.

With an odd sense of reverence, they wrapped the shoes up in an old pillowcase and sealed them in a shoebox borrowed from Molly’s father.  
The whole package was then tucked as far back as Sebastian could reach in Molly’s closet. Afterwards, the three of them piled on to Molly’s narrow bed, curled up close, and went to sleep.

—-

Things changed after Carl Powers.

Every day Molly had new information about different ways to die and what exactly various toxins did to the human body, and Jim got quieter, but his mind was clearly racing. Sebastian once spent an entire afternoon with him in total silence, and when Jim finally moved, he had to hold his head as if to keep his thoughts from falling out.

Sebastian kept out of it; they were his generals, and he would follow their orders wherever they led, but they were the ones in command, it wasn’t his place to question.

—-

The whole summer was quieter than normal; free from the sorts of activities with which they usually occupied their time. They spent less time tormenting woodland creatures and the younger children, and more time lounging by the pool at Sebastian’s house.

Sebastian had recently been taught how to shoot, and he was practicing his aim with a water pistol as Molly picked out targets for him.

“You should get Jamie,” she commanded, flicking water towards his prone body. “He’s being _boring_.”

“You take that back!” snapped Jim.

“Boring!” she taunted, diving underwater and surfacing in the middle where he couldn’t reach her.

“Shoot her, Sebby. She’s irritating me.”

Sebastian shrugged and fired a stream of water at Molly, who shrieked and dove down to the bottom.

When she surfaced again, she swam over and leaned on the wall next to Jim. “Come on, Jamie, I was only kidding. Let’s do something fun. Sebby could catch us a squirrel or a bird or something; there are loads of them around here. That always cheers you up.”

“It all seems so silly. Cutting up animals, and nicking things from the shops, and petty vandalism. What’s the point?” Jim flopped back on his towel with a great sigh.

Molly rolled her eyes at Sebastian, but hopped out of the water to comfort Jim. “We’ll think of something. Come on, cheer up. The three of us’ll come up with some brilliant idea, you’ll see.”

“I know where my father keeps the guns,” Sebastian offered. “We could break in easy and I could teach you how to shoot.”

Jim made a disparaging noise at that, but he did at least sit up. “Why do I need to know how to shoot a gun if I’ve got you?”

They were bickering good-naturedly about possible plans when they heard a door open and then Sebastian’s father talking to someone.

“Look Botha, this is unacceptable. I’ve held up my side of the deal, I expected to have those bombs in my hands a week ago.”

Jim’s eyes grew impossibly wide in his pale face.

Sebastian’s father continued, “It’s no use making excuses. If you don’t get me what I’m owed and soon, first I’ll make sure everyone knows not to bother with you or your gang ever again, and then I’ll use some of those lovely guns you shipped up and visit you _personally_. Lovely talking with you.” They heard him set the phone back in its cradle and then the door snapped shut behind him.

Jim was shaking all over and grinning like all his favorite holidays had come at once. “ _Yes_ ,” he hissed.

For the first time - but not the last - Sebastian recognized why other people were afraid of his friend. But he had never had a problem with throwing himself into danger.

He glanced over at Molly and realized that she was thinking the exact same thing: the pale, skinny boy in red swim trunks sitting beside them on a thin towel was absolutely insane, and someday he would either rule the world, or burn it to ash.


	3. Panel Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian realized that Molly was in love with Jim the summer before he left for Eton and about thirty seconds after she kissed him.

Sebastian realized that Molly was in love with Jim the summer before he left for Eton and about thirty seconds after she kissed him.

It was a chaste kiss as these things go; just a light, dry press of lip against lip. Molly fled to the other end of the couch immediately afterwards - blushing furiously - and avoided his gaze. Jim just scoffed at them and emphatically returned to his reading.

Sebastian could feel the defiance of the kiss lingering on his lips. It wasn’t really for him; the tense line of Molly’s shoulders as she fiercely watched Jim for signs of reaction told him that. His gaze flickered over to their commander, but he couldn’t read Jim’s thoughts the way he could Molly’s.

Sebastian decided he didn’t really mind if Molly loved Jim more. It had been a nice kiss.

—-

Molly didn’t recognize that she’d fallen in love with Jim for the longest time because he’d always been her whole world. She started to connect the dots during the first year without Sebastian around as a distraction.

It was a game that everyone played. You picked your target, told them earnestly that someone else liked them, and then had a good laugh with your friends about the look of pained embarrassment on their face. Molly and Jim were exceptionally good at picking the name that would sting the most. Molly had had it done to her on occasion; usually her supposed admirer was one of the quiet, bookish boys in their year, though sometimes Jim or Sebastian’s name would come up. At first she laughed those off with a dismissive, “obviously.” But towards the end of term, the girl behind her in maths leaned forward and hissed, “I heard Jim _likes_ you. Are you going to _kiss_ him?” And dissolved into near silent giggles with her friends.

Molly had flushed hot all over. Embarrassed tears pricked at her eyes. Had anyone noticed? Surely they had; she must be bright red. She felt totally exposed, like everyone could easily read her secrets all across her face.

Her gaze flicked frantically over to Jim, but he hadn’t looked up from the equations he was scribbling in his notebook. He noticed her watching him and gave her a quick little smirk, the same look he’d been giving her his whole life, but now it twisted something painfully inside her because it hadn’t been in their life plan to fall for her commanding officer.

—-

When Seb got back from his first year at Eton, his father decided that it was time for him to start work in the family business. Jim and Molly tagged along, and the three of them found themselves working for a local loyalist group. Mostly they just ran errands, or Molly would use visits with her Gran to gather information from the Catholic side of the peace line.

It was an oddly pleasant time. They didn’t really care about unification or any of the various political motivations of the group; it was really just an excuse for adult-sanctioned rule-breaking and violence. Someone figured out that Jim had a knack for bombs and taught him everything they knew about incendiary devices. Seb was getting shooting instruction from military-trained gunmen, and Molly was perfecting her skills at planning and executing complex missions.

Seb had enjoyed Eton, but he had missed his true commanders; had missed their lack of concern about his more violent tendencies and the way he didn’t have to censor himself around them. And - especially - he had missed Molly. The one kiss she’d given him had worked its way into several of his nicer dreams. He tried to keep his distance though, since he knew she really liked Jim.

After one particularly harrowing smash and grab, Seb limped back to the rendezvous with a dislocated shoulder and a split lip. Molly made a distressed sound and hurried over to him.

“Gimme a hand, eh Molls?” he asked, gesturing to his shoulder.

She ran a hand over it, feeling the damage. “I can fix this. Take a deep breath, I’ll pop it back in place.”

Seb sucked in air, still a bit winded from fleeing pursuit, and when he exhaled, Molly jabbed his shoulder with what felt like all her weight behind the heel of her hand. He didn’t curse in pain, but it was a close thing.

“You okay? I didn’t make it worse did I?” Molly fretted over him, prodding gingerly at his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t irreparably broken.

Watching her fondly, Seb decided he could always blame the adrenaline if this didn’t work out the way he wanted, and leaned over and kissed her firmly.

Molly didn’t protest, but she didn’t kiss back either, so Seb started to pull away.

“Wait!” she blurted. “Don’t - I mean…would you do that again?”

Molly was beautiful when she was blushing. Seb smirked, and leaned into another kiss that tasted of blood and danger.

—-

Molly woke up in Jim’s bed to Seb slipping a hand under her bra. She rolled over sleepily and found his lips with hers.

“Good morning,” she murmured, when they broke for air.

“C’mon,” he whispered, pushing at her. “Let’s not wake him.”

They rolled quietly to the floor, Seb landing heavily on top of Molly. She smiled and pressed up into him. Their kisses were slow and unhurried, but there was a steady building feeling, like a wave. Seb seemed content to keep it to the realm of sleepy snogging, but Molly was getting impatient. With a move that Seb had taught her she flipped them over and resumed her assault on his lips.

They were trying to keep things quiet, but there was a definite rocking motion to her hips now and Seb was pushing up into the rhythm. She moved her attention down the line of his jaw and neck, and he let his head fall back with a soft thump. Molly glanced up at the bed to make sure Jim hadn’t woken up, and met his gaze like an electric shock.

She jerked in surprise and nearly pulled away, but she was distracted by Seb’s teeth on her collarbone and his hands curling around her hips and she convinced herself that she wasn’t thinking straight and was still half-asleep and Jim couldn’t possibly be watching them. A secret part of her whispered back that it wouldn’t really mind if he was, but she didn’t look too hard at that. However, when she returned to Seb’s mouth, her kisses had a definite edge to them.

—-

Seb suspected that Jim only kissed him because of the ceasefire. He was sure there were plenty of kisses being exchanged because of the ceasefire, but possibly this was the only one that wasn’t out of relief. If Jim and Seb were alike in any way, it was that they both itched for violence. Seb was always happiest, always clearest, when he was fighting. And Jim seemed to draw his energy from struggle and contention. The ceasefire meant a loss of that, and so he found his violence in the conquest of Seb’s mouth.

The first time he and Jim kissed was very different from the kisses he’d shared with Molly. That was the difference right there: he and Molly _shared_ kisses, they fought for dominance and won about equally. He loved when Molly forced her way into his mouth just as much as he loved licking into hers. But Jim was always in control. Even if Seb was using his larger bulk to pin Jim down, it was always at the other boy’s urging. While Molly had started out sweet and demuring, Jim was all sharpness and hunger. He simply wanted Seb and so would have him, as was his due.

Seb had a feeling that he ought to be more bothered by the whole thing than he was. He was a bit concerned that Molly might be upset by whatever was happening, but there was never any question of their relationship being wrong - or at least, no more wrong than their relationship already was. Some people were leaders - Jim, and Seb’s father, and even Molly in a quiet way - but Seb was not one of those people. He had thrown his lot in with Jim and would follow the other boy wherever he led. He’d already burned down a house and been an accessory to murder, what harm was a little kissing?

—-

When they were sixteen, Molly’s father got sick. She felt entirely useless. There was a steady stream of relatives in and out of the house and everyone was always upbeat and cheerful, but Molly could tell that something was seriously wrong.

Jim was sympathetic though.

“I don’t see why you’re so concerned, Molls. People die all the time. You didn’t care this much when Carl died.”

“Because, _Jamie_ , I could control that. I can’t control this. I don’t know what to _do_!”

Molly had figured out by now that by the standards of normal society she, Jim, and Seb were wrong; that there was something not right in each of their heads. Jim moreso than the rest. But while she and Seb were good at hiding, and camouflage, and fitting in, Jim didn’t think that the rest of society was worth changing for. To him, other people were nothing more than the slugs he happily spent hours salting. So Molly knew not to expect the usual reactions of sorrow and pity over her father’s illness. But Jim did understand her anger and confusion at the lack of control.

“Oh Molls.” He pulled her tight against him.

He’d grown a few more inches and was just a bit taller than her now. Molly allowed herself a brief, guilty moment of enjoying the feel of his body against hers, wishing the circumstances of the embrace were more positive.

He pulled away, a strange expression on his face. “We could - help. You know. If he’s in pain. We could arrange - I mean - the two of us know enough…” He trailed off awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

It was probably bad form to embrace someone who’d just offered to kill your father, but Molly did it anyway. With tears in her eyes, she squeezed him tight. “Oh Jamie, I love you so much. You - thank you.”

In the end, they didn’t do anything. They didn’t have to. The illness got to be too much and her father accepted that fact and quietly slipped further and further away until he was gone entirely.

—-

Seb got special permission to leave Eton and fly back to Ireland for the funeral. Molly told him that he didn’t have to come, but it was Molly, Seb would do anything for her.

The house was packed and there was a palpable tension in the air that both sides of the family seemed determined to ignore. Molly walked through it all in a daze. On four separate occasions, Jim or Seb had to steer her away from a collision course or gently move her out of someone’s path.

Seb had no clue what to do. Neither he nor Jim were the comforting sort, and he was afraid to offer some sympathy for fear that he would either mess it up or it would be clearly seen as false. He could at least get Molly away from everyone else though. Jim had had the same idea apparently because he helped Seb get Molly tucked into a tiny window seat without Seb having to ask.

“Come here, Molls,” murmured Seb, putting an arm around her. “Jim and I are here. Talk to us.”

Molly pressed her cheek to Seb’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t let me see his body,” she whispered into the fabric of Seb’s school coat.

“Oh Molls,” he sighed, squeezing her so tight to him that it must have hurt.

She let out a little hiccupping sob and pressed even closer.

Jim stood guard over the two of them, keeping the press of relatives and well-wishers at bay. He had a pained look on his face and he kept touching Molly lightly; just a brush of fingers on her shoulder, or her hair. Seb felt an entirely inappropriate grin spread across his face. He was by no means stupid, but it wasn’t often that he realized things before Jim did. He’d always assumed that he and Molly were merely distractions for Jim; just his current favorite playthings. It was certainly how Jim acted most of the time; like he was putting up with their adorable antics - for now.

Seb reached out and took Jim’s hand. Jim gave him a puzzled look, but Seb just smiled back placidly and tugged until Jim had settled on Molly’s other side and tucked an arm around her waist.

“It’s alright now,” he soothed. “We’ll stick together; the three of us.”

—-

Molly was seventeen when she walked in on Jim and Seb for the first time. Their embrace was vicious, and more possessive than passionate. Seb was bigger – his rugby sculpted body loomed over Jim’s slender form – but Jim was clearly in control. She burned watching them, with a sharp combination of desire and rejection. Jim bit at the curve of Seb’s ear and he let out a low moan.

Molly squeaked.

Both boys looked up suddenly.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry, sorry. I’ll just – I’ll just go. Sorry.”

Molly turned to leave, but Seb’s hand was suddenly gripping her wrist.

“Wait, Molls.”

He drew her close and pressed his lips fiercely against hers. The part of her that always melted at his touch did so, but another part of her brain was screaming, _But Jim’s still here! He’s right there!_ And then he was right there; hands grabbing at her hips and biting none too gently at her neck and jaw line. She was lost the second his lips touched her skin.

Seb pulled her down onto the sofa without breaking their kiss and Jim crowded next to them, his fingers deftly pulling Seb’s shirt out of his waistband.

“My turn,” he teased, pinching Molly’s side.

She started to twist away, to let Jim reach Seb’s lips, but he caught her before she went too far and pulled her into a kiss. Molly had imagined her first kiss with Jim more than she possibly wanted to admit, and it did not disappoint. He kissed with intent; his tongue and teeth opening her mouth as his hands worked at the buttons of her shirt. At the same time, Seb had slid one of his hands down her spine and further to grip her thigh while the other slipped into Jim’s pants.

Molly’s heart was racing. Her body couldn’t decide if it was going to go into sensory overload, or if it never wanted to stop. Seb’s kisses were indulgent, and Jim’s kisses were insistent, and between the two of them, she felt like she would shake apart except that they all clung together too tight.

—-

“Seb, do you think that Jim loves us?”

Their - whatever - had been going on for about a year, and while there weren’t clear names for what they were to each other, it was clear that this was more than a passing thing for any of them.

Seb was pretty sure that Jim didn’t really love either of them though. It was quite possible that Jim wasn’t capable of love; curiousity sure, maybe affection, but not love. Molly seemed to have an overabundance of love. “People are so fragile,” she had told Seb once, tucking his strong arms tighter around her. “So many ways to break us. But right here, right now, we’re alive. That’s beautiful. People are beautiful.” As for himself, he was never quite sure what he felt about Molly or Jim, just that he would always be there for either of them.

“I think he knows that we understand him. As much as he understands himself anyway. Maybe that’s love, I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s enough.”

\---

During their gap year, the three of them took a trip to the beach for what was quite possibly the best week of Molly’s life. Seb drove, Jim rode shotgun with his bare feet sticking out of the window, and Molly sprawled across the back seat as they drove along the quiet country roads.

The cottage they rented was tiny, but perfect.

“We should live in a house like this someday,” Molly said with a contented sigh.

“No, we’re going to live in this bastard’s castle,” teased Jim, prodding Seb with his toes.

“I don’t have a castle, you pillock.” Seb punctuated his insult by dragging Jim further down the couch until his skinny legs were sprawled across his lap.

Molly couldn’t help the beatific smile that spread across her face at the sight of her two boys.

“Molls looks entirely too peaceful. Do something about that, wouldn’t you Sebby dearest?”

“You want her running scared or caught?” Seb asked, a wicked grin curving his lips.

“Caught.”

It was the only warning Molly had before Seb was leaping across the coffee table and reaching for her. She bounded to the side, narrowly evading him, and made for the bathroom which had a locking door. Seb anticipated her move and blocked the path, forcing her to dart into the kitchen. Which, of course, had no exit.

Seb had her caught now and he knew it, so he moved in slowly. He soon had her pinned against the counter; his arms bracketing her body and their hips locked together. His smile was predatory as he leaned forward. She reached out for some sort of weapon to push him back and found a paring knife. She snatched at it and brought the blade to his throat.

“Oh well done!” crowed Jim, moving into the kitchen to watch. “The prey has outmaneuvered the predator.”

Seb grinned, displaying an uncomfortable amount of teeth, and leaned into the knife.

“Do it,” he hissed. “I dare you.”

“You forget,” she retorted, “I’ve killed before.”

“Technically that was Jim.”

“Only because I couldn’t go into the boy’s locker room,” she whispered into his ear.

Seb shuddered.

“Stop toying with him, Molls,” ordered Jim.

“What should I do with him, now that I’ve caught him for you?”

Jim hopped up onto the counter next to her and considered. “He is rather attractive isn’t he? Don’t cut him up too badly, dear. Maybe just a little…” He reached over and drew Molly’s hand to the side.

A thin line of blood beaded up across Seb’s throat. Jim smeared his finger through the blood and then brought it thoughtfully to his lips. “We should make a blood pact,” he mused.

Seb jerked away from Molly and the knife to look hard at Jim. Then he laughed. “You’re mad,” he pronounced fondly, and cupped Jim’s head to pull him into a lingering kiss.

Later, when her boys turned all their attention on her, Molly resolved that she would have this always.

—-

It took Jim a little while to adjust to the new environment in Oxford. At first, he didn’t know the balance of power and no one else knew exactly what he was capable of. Seb worried for about a month, but then Jim seemed to get his feet under him and organized a paper-sharing scheme. After that, he was back in his element and resumed his guise of kingship. Since Molly was a few hours away at medical school, Seb supposed that made him queen. He frowned as he thought that, maybe ‘advisor’ was a better term.

Jim flopped onto Seb’s bed with a groan. “Are you sure I can’t come and live with you? My roommate is intolerable.”

No, ‘queen’ worked. He certainly felt like Jim’s spouse most of the time.

“What’s he done this time?”

“He insists on continuing to breathe. I keep demanding that he stop, but no, breathing is important apparently. He would be a much better person if he just gave it up.”

Seb laughed and shoved a pile of clothes off the bed so he could lie down as well.

“Your roommate at least has the decency to be gone all the time.”

“That is the best thing about him.”

Jim curled up on Seb’s chest and tossed a leg over his hips. “So, I was thinking. All these little cons and crimes I’ve been running - I could go bigger. We could go bigger.”

“You and Molly?” asked Seb.

“I was thinking you and me. I don’t want her too involved; it’s better if she stays out of it.”

“But you’ll toss me into danger?”

“You can take care of yourself. Anyway, if Molly’s mostly out of it, she can be a spy. And subtlety is not your strong suit.”  
“I can be subtle.”

Jim arched a brow and glanced pointedly at Seb’s crotch.

“Not my fault. You’re the one practically on top of me.”

Jim chuckled and settled his hips more solidly on top of Seb’s. “I like your lack of subtlety. You’re refreshingly candid. It’s quite nice to be able to tell exactly what you’re thinking. Or feeling.” Jim rolled his hips against Seb’s, and Seb groaned and arched up into him.

“Anyway,” Jim continued, “I could use a sharpshooter at my beck and call. Like right now. Let’s go get some dinner.” He abruptly pulled away and hopped off the bed.

Seb groaned. James Ryan was going to be the death of him.

—-

College was harder than Molly thought it would be. Not the coursework - that was almost insultingly easy, she’d been studying this stuff since she was old enough to read. No, what was hard was the people. Molly hadn’t made a real friend since she and Jim had met Seb when they were eight. Now, eleven years later, she was finding the whole experience difficult.

Her roommate was a painfully shy girl named Susan who studied Physics and only left the library to go to class or to sleep. Her lab partners were nice enough, but they were closer to each other. Intellectually, she knew that her lack of friends wasn’t helped by the fact that she spent most of her weekends at Oxford with Jim and Seb, but that didn’t stop her from hopping on the train north almost every Friday afternoon. Her weekends in Oxford were about the only time she felt whole anymore.

One of Molly’s lab partners had once jokingly complained that she would have no idea what to do in a threesome. “I mean, I feel like someone would always be left out.” Molly had almost made a crack about the limitations of just one sexual partner, but had held her tongue. Now she thought she might understand what the girl was trying to get at.

Every time Jim twisted his mouth around Seb’s length, Seb’s legs twitched and tangled themselves further up with Molly’s. She lay flat on her back, unsure what exactly she was supposed to do in this arrangement.

Jim detached with a soft pop and she could hear Seb gritting his teeth. “No worries, Molls. You’re next.”

She shivered with delight and leaned forward to swallow Seb’s moans, anxieties temporarily forgotten.

—-

It had been four years since Seb had joined the army and just as long since he’d seen Jim and Molly. It was tricky to schedule visits when only a third of you had a permanent address. Seb had been all over Africa and Iraq, and even to Afghanistan for a while, while Jim had been God knows where. Even the few times Seb had been in England, it was a hassle to get down to London and large chunks of his time were taken up with sniper training, so he settled for phone calls and emails. But finally he had a nice long leave and had arranged to spend it with Molly. They’d emailed Jim, but hadn’t gotten any response.

Seb had been a bit worried about the visit - a lot had changed in four years - but he needn’t have worried. Being with Molly was easy, comfortable, like slipping on a beloved sweatshirt. They slept until the middle of the afternoon, curled together in Molly’s soft bed, and then wandered the streets until the early hours of the morning. Seb felt entirely at peace.

One such wandering took them past a local pool. Molly paused.

“Molls?” Seb asked, reaching back to her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just - this is where Carl died.”

Seb looked up at the building. “Oh. Do you want to go inside?”

Molly considered. “Yeah, actually.”

Seb found an unlocked back door and the two of them crept inside.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” she whispered.

Seb felt uneasy. It wasn’t just the building - although the darkened pool was oddly unnerving - he felt like there was someone else there. He fell a bit behind, scanning the space and looking for shadows that were amiss.

“Seb!” Molly’s voice was hushed, but alarmed. He sprinted to her side.

She stood looking into one of the changing stalls. A very familiar pair of sneakers was neatly positioned on the wooden seat.

“Get behind me!” he hissed, shoving her back and whirling to scour the pool for movement.

“They’re - how could they be here? I left them back in Belfast!”

“Do you like my homecoming present?”

Seb recognized that voice.

“Jamie!” Molly cried, alarm quickly becoming excitement.

“Did you miss me, my darlings?” Jim appeared out of another stall, arms spread wide.

Molly threw herself at him with a squeal. “How long have you been following us, you cheeky thing?” Molly teased, kissing Jim’s forehead.

“Only the last mile or so. I got your message. Sorry I couldn’t respond, there was a spot of trouble with the Chinese authorities. But not to worry! Daddy still managed to get presents for his darlings while he was away on business!”

And just like that, they were together again, and it was like nothing had changed. The rest of Seb’s leave was a happy blur of camaraderie, mischief, and really great sex.

—-

Molly only once heard Jim sound worried.

Her phone rang at an ungodly hour of the morning for someone who was working night shifts and she fumbled for it, almost dropping it to the floor.

“Hullo?” she grumbled.

“Molly? Molly! Is that you? Are you okay?”

“Yes…who is this?”

“Oh thank God. It’s Jim - Jamie. I’m here with Seb, we’re watching the news. You’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve been asleep. What’s going on?”

Seb’s voice came through next. “There was some sort of attack on the tube. Bombs. Jim’s been in a right state.”

Molly scrambled upright. “Bombs? What?”

“We don’t know. He hadn’t heard about it through any of his channels, which is, I think, why he’s in such a panic.”

Jim’s voice picked up again. “Listen to me, Molly Hooper. Don’t go outside until I figure this out, alright? At the very least don’t take public transport. Please? If you have to die an untimely death, I want to be the one to do it, understand? I’ll figure this out.”

And just like that, he hung up.

Molly stared at the phone for a second, then went to make tea and tell her work that she wouldn’t be coming in that night.

—-

Jim was waiting for him at the Heathrow baggage claim wearing a designer suit and carrying a sign that looked like a child had written it.

“Did you kidnap a three year old to write that?” Seb asked, drawing level.

Jim frowned. “She said she was four.”

Seb chuckled and pulled Jim into a tight hug. “Miss me, boss?”

“More than you know. But you didn’t have to get yourself kicked out of the army just for me.”

Seb grimaced.

“No worries, my dear, I’ve got an infinitely more exciting job for you.”

Seb asked after Molly as their cab wound its way through the London streets.

“Oh, I don’t know. Fine I guess.”

Seb managed to keep his questions off his face. Jim knew everything, and he and Molly had always been closer than close. Jim certainly had his reasons for keeping a distance and it wasn’t Seb’s place to question that. Seb didn’t particularly want to think right now anyway. He’d been calculating far too much recently; between trying to keep his paramilitary work under wraps and the subsequent disgrace of its revelation. A part of Seb wanted to blame Jim for that, but it was his own fault that he’d been caught. Nothing to do about it now, and Jim’s work did sound intriguing.

Jim was directing the cabbie into an increasingly industrial area and finally had him stop at a warehouse marked ‘To Let.’ The warehouse was empty except for a few large shipping containers. Seb did a quick recon as Jim bolted the door and threw on the lights.

“Welcome to my castle!”

“Uh…” As far as Seb could see, there was nothing there.

“It’s a work in progress, obviously, but I’m off to a good start. For a reasonable price I will arrange any crime for you, or get you in contact with someone who can do it. I even changed my name. To Jim Moriarty! It has a lovely ring to it doesn’t it?

"The only thing I need now is a hit man. Preferably someone with military sniper training or a paramilitary background. Know anyone who might be interested?” Jim had hooked his fingers into Seb’s pockets and tugged him close.

“I might know a guy, yeah.”

“Excellent.” The kiss was searing, but over too quickly.

Jim insisted on giving Seb the whole tour, which luckily ended at the bedroom.

“Not living with Molly anymore then?” Seb asked, determined to get some kind of information.

“Sometimes. When it suits. She’s got her own life, I’m trying to keep her out of this.”

“She loves you, you know. She’d probably do anything for you. And her skills could be a help in a business like this…”

“Leave it, Sebastian!”

Seb frequently joked that Jim only loved him because of his weapons skills. It was a fact that was probably truer than either of them would openly admit, but only rarely did it hit Seb with the sharp sting of childhood rejection. Despite the fact that he was the one currently in Jim’s bed, Seb suspected that he would never be as close to Jim as Molly was.

—-

“Molly dearest, I have a DB coming in tonight that needs to be marked as a suicide. Ta, love!”

Molly sighed at Jim’s voicemail and hung up the phone. She got a few such calls every month. She didn’t really _mind_ , it was nice to be included, but she felt like Jim had forgotten that she was rather good at the whole criminal mastermind thing too. His excuse was always that the current job required a gun rather than poison. At least she got to be with Jim and Seb more frequently now that they were based out of London.

“Alright, Mr. Parrish,” Molly said, patting the body on the slab. “Let’s get started.”

It actually wouldn’t be hard to label this as a suicide, Molly realized as she started to work. Seb had done his job well. The man’s finger had been on the trigger so technically he had killed himself. Only an extremely careful examination of his knuckle would reveal the bruise caused by someone else’s finger applying force. Molly didn’t feel at all out of line listing suicide as the cause of death.

She muttered into her recorder as she finished out the rest of the examination. “Adult male, forty-three years of age, thirteen stone. Cause of death: single gunshot wound to the head. Bullet entered in the roof of the mouth and exited through the crown of the skull, causing a large exit wound. Apparently self-inflicted. Gunshot residue on the fingers of the right hand -"

“Have you even looked at the body?” asked a deep voice. “Clearly this was murder.”

“I think I can do my job, thanks. And anyway, this is a closed examination, no one’s allowed in here.” Molly turned to face the intruder and almost gasped out loud.

He was tall, probably about the same height as Seb, but he looked taller because he was so skinny. His hair was dark and rather shaggy, and he had an oddly angular face, but what had so utterly caught Molly were his eyes. Seb’s eyes were like still pools of water, and Jim’s were like some consuming pit; but this man’s eyes were like shards of glass. And Molly had never been able to resist a spot of danger.


	4. Panel Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finds new entertainment in Sherlock Holmes and Molly finds herself pushed to the side.

Sometimes, Molly thought she was so good at going unnoticed that even the people who loved her thought she was invisible.

She hadn’t seen Seb or Jim for almost a year, though she frequently saw evidence of their exploits on the news. Never anything too obvious - Jim was very good after all - but she recognized his handiwork. And while she’d gotten used to Sherlock’s dismissive manner, it was hard to stay positive in the face of all the fun she wasn’t getting to join in on. She was thinking along those lines as she dragged herself into her empty apartment.

Which wasn’t empty.

She panicked for a moment, until she recognized Seb’s boots and Jim’s dress shoes. With a lighter heart, she almost skipped into her bedroom.

Jim was propped up in bed, typing away on Molly’s laptop, with Seb sprawled across his legs, wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs.

“Hello, Molly dearest. Hope you don’t mind; we made ourselves at home.”

“You’re welcome anytime, Jim; you know that.”

She dropped her work clothes and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before hopping into bed next to him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Just about an hour. Sebby’ll be up in a second to greet you properly.”

As if on cue, Seb grumbled and rolled over, then he sat up with a loud groan.

“Hey Molls,” he grunted, kissing her forehead as he climbed out of bed.

He dropped his pants on the way to the bathroom and Molly and Jim made the same appreciative sound.

Molly turned to Jim with a pleading look in her eyes.

“In a bit, Molly. This is part of his routine: shoot, sleep, shower, sex.”

Molly couldn’t wait.

—-

When Molly woke up, the sun was slanting low across the room and - miraculously - Jim and Seb were still in bed with her. She’d been sure they would slip out in the night, back to their glamorous lives of crime. And a small part of her brain had thought the whole thing might have been a hallucination brought on by working too hard. She untangled herself carefully and went to find them some food.

As she stood in the kitchen - trying to decide between beans and toast or just getting something delivered - Jim came up behind her and gave her a tight hug.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he mumbled into her hair.

“It was softer than Seb’s. Is he still asleep?”

“Yes,” Jim sighed. “He’s almost impossible to wake; it’s quite inconvenient. I’ve tried everything from water pistols to small explosives.”

Molly laughed and turned to face him. “I have missed you, Jim. Both of you.”

“I know, love, but you have your job and we have ours. I don’t want to jeopardize your hard work.”

“I could do both. I’ve worked undercover before, you know I’m good at it. Besides, hardly anyone at work even acknowledges my presence; not even the ‘consulting detective’ who’s always hanging around.”

Jim froze. “The what?”

“‘Consulting detective.’ I mean,” Molly laughed nervously, “that’s what he calls himself. Sherlock - his name’s Sherlock Holmes. He helps the police solve crimes.”

“Any good is he?” Jim’s tone was light, but Molly could see the tension in his face.

Molly’s mind was whirring. Could Jim see? Did he realize her feelings for Sherlock? Should she have told him about the other man at all? But it was too late.

“Pretty good,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

Jim was silent for a long moment, and Molly was sure he would be able to hear her heart beating furiously.

“Hmmm,” he finally said. “Must not be that good, or he’d see exactly how fabulous you are. Might try and steal you away.”

“Never,” Molly murmured. “I’m yours.”

—-

Seb jimmied the door handle of the warehouse break room until it popped open with a click.

“We don’t have keys,” he explained in response to Molly’s questioning look. “Jim’s got a fitting right now, but he’ll be back in a few. Tea?”

“Lovely, thanks.”

Molly poked around while Seb got the kettle ready. It was a surprisingly cozy room with a kitchenette along one wall and a comfy looking sofa and matching chair. There was also a mini fridge being used as a side table.

“Why two fridges?” Molly asked, pulling the door open.

“No, don’t-” Seb snapped.

“Are - is that… a severed hand?”

“Uh, yeah. I made Jim get a separate fridge for his body parts. Sorry about that; I should have warned you.”

Molly burst out laughing. “Please tell me neither of you personally detached this hand? This hack job is atrocious; I know I taught you better.”

Seb grinned Molly’s favorite predatory smile. “It’s nice having you around, Molls.”

“I could be around more frequently if Jim would give me some more jobs.”

“You know he’s just trying to look out for you-“

“Yes, yes.” Molly waved a hand dismissively. “But he forgets that I can make my own decisions. I’m a grown woman, and don’t - in fact - belong to him.”

“Who doesn’t belong to me? I want them brought in immediately. Preferably in handcuffs.” Jim’s voice pitched from loud and indignant to low and leering, and his hand wrapped around Molly’s waist from behind her. She couldn’t help her shudder, and she certainly couldn’t hide it from Jim.

He released her with one last squeeze, and stepped all the way into the room. “What’ve you got for me, Molly?”

Molly wasn’t an idiot. She knew that Jim was using her just as much as Sherlock was. In fact, it was almost more of a betrayal, because Sherlock was at least obvious about the fact that he wasn’t actually attracted to her. There was a big difference between knowing something and acting on it, though, and she couldn’t bring herself to give up even the most blatantly false displays of affection.

Molly smiled crookedly and placed two identical bottles filled with identical pills on the counter. “Pick your poison.”

Jim picked up one bottle to examine it more closely, and Seb said, “I don’t understand.”

“For your cabbie killer. One bottle’s a deadly poison, the other’s totally harmless. But which one is which?”

“Brilliant,” muttered Jim, stroking a finger lightly over the metal caps.

“Very ‘Princess Bride’ this whole scheme. Did you come up with it, or did he?”

“The cabbie for the most part, I just gave him a little push. It’s not the most elegant of plans, but clever enough - I think - that he’ll be interested.”

Molly froze. “He?”

“Sherlock of course. Just a little test, to see if he’s worth playing with.” Jim grinned at her. “Do you think he’ll enjoy my puzzle?”

—-

The name on Jim’s temporary ID badge read “James King.” Jim laughed about it when he showed to to Molly and Seb. There was a wardrobe as well; several days worth of outfits carefully selected for the “Jim from IT” persona. The underwear was Molly’s favorite part.

“Bright colors and my ass; of course you love it,” scoffed Jim as he modeled a salmon colored pair.

“No complaints from me either,” drawled Seb. “Though I like the red ones best.”

“The question is, which one will Sherlock like best?”

“Geez, Jamie. Are you trying to kill the guy or sleep with him?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive…”

“Hey now,” chided Molly.

“We could always share him. Do you think our bed will fit him, Sebastian?”

Seb rolled over and stretched out on the bed in question. “Looks good to me. Think he’ll want to bring his doctor friend along? They seem pretty close.”

“Now there’s a thought.” Jim froze; Molly could see the wheels in his head turning. He spun and pointed at her. “I was going to use you as the final hostage, but this is even better. It’ll hurt more if he thinks - if only for a second - that someone he actually cares about is behind all the crimes.”

Jim whirled away, plotting out a new course of action with Seb, but Molly wasn’t listening. She felt as if she’d been struck.

Jim’s words rang coldly in her ears. Jim was always cruel; it was his way - every word specifically chosen to cut at your weak points and break you apart. Molly was used to that. It was the carelessness that hurt so much.

She took a deep breath to compose herself, but she needn’t have bothered. Jim was no longer paying her the slightest bit of attention.

—-

Molly felt rather giddy standing outside the door to 221 Baker Street.

“Pull yourself together, Hooper,” she muttered, and rang the bell.

“Coming!” called a warm voice, and a moment later the door was opened by a friendly, matronly woman.

“Hello!” Molly chirped. “Mrs. Hudson, right? Sherlock was telling me. I’m Molly Hooper, from Bart’s.”

The woman gave her a blank look.

“St Bartholomew’s?” tried Molly. “The hospital. Has he not mentioned me?” She didn’t have to act all that much to look crestfallen.

”I’m sure it just slipped his mind, dearie. He’s been in a bit of a mood. Would you like to come in? I could make you some tea?”

“Oh, that would be lovely, but I can’t really stay. I was just going to drop off somethings Sherlock had asked for. Old equipment, things like that.

“Of course, of course. Why don’t I take it upstairs for you?”

“Thank you so much. I’ll just be on my way.” Molly handed over the bad she’d brought and watched the woman creak up the stairs. The second she was out of sight, Molly slipped inside, and - as quietly as possible - picked the lock on 221C and went in.

The flat was dark and damp, but Molly couldn’t risk turning any lights on.

“Just do your job and get out, Hooper. Prove to Jim that you can do this.”

She snapped a picture of the living room, and then placed the sneakers that had belonged to Carl Powers in the middle of the floor. It was an odd feeling to leave them there. She felt exposed - what if she were caught by someone? - but mostly she felt sad. It was a feeling not unlike giving up a favorite childhood toy. There was the sense that something was coming to an end. She stood for a moment in the dark and the damp and the quiet, and if a tear or two slid down her cheeks, she didn’t mention it to Jim or Seb.

—-

It had been hours, and Molly was getting desperate. She’d been frantically calling every number she could think of: Jim, Seb, Sherlock, she’d even managed to get John Watson’s mobile number from Mrs. Hudson.

Where could they be?

She didn’t think it was likely that either Sherlock or John had updated his blog - an update along the lines of “Oh, just off for a spot of crime-fighting and adventure at such-and-such and address, from midnight to two. See you when we get back!” would be far too convenient - but Molly checked anyway.

And of course, /of course/, Sherlock was arrogant enough to do just that.

“Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight.”

There was only one place that could be. Molly grabbed her coat and ran for the pool.

—-

She arrived to see Sherlock and John just pulling away in a cab. They both looked rattled, but intact. So what had happened to-?

She burst into the pool area. Seb was doing an after-action with a few snipers, and Jim was playing on his phone, with a pile of explosives at his feet. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps.

“Oh. Hello.”

Molly gaped at him.

“Hello? /Hello?/ That’s all you have to say?

Jim glanced around. “That’s how people greet each other, yes?”

“What the hell happened? You said you would tell me what was happening. You promised!”

“Sorry, Molls. Things got a bit complicated, obviously. It was all under control. No need to concern you with it.”

“Jim. For some supremely stupid reason, I love you. Which means I worry about you. You can’t just tell me you’re off for the endgame and expect me to sit at home and watch telly with Toby! Why didn’t you at least answer your phone?”

Jim stood up and loomed over her. “Because, Molly, I was busy and it didn’t concern you. Not everything does. Now go away; I don’t want you here.”

Molly sputtered.

Seb opened his mouth to say something, but Jim cut him off, “No, Sebastian. Molly, I’ll call you later. If I need you again.”

He pressed a vicious kiss to her lips, nipping at her as he pulled away. She swayed into him, magnetized, but he spun around and walked away without a backward glance.

—-

The feeling of the kiss lingered on Molly’s cheek well after the Christmas party and was undeterred by the unexpected trip to the morgue. Even Sherlock’s intimate familiarity with the dead woman hadn’t been able to dampen the spark of happiness that had been glowing since Sherlock’s apology. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She’d been so unhappy for quite a while. It had been a very long year.

Molly didn’t bother changing out of the scrub pants and jumper she’d pulled on; she simply put on her winter coat and hat and headed for the nearest Tube station.

She had to walk a ways to get to Jim’s warehouse, and the cold was fierce, but refreshing too. She felt like nothing could touch her. Which was why she had to do this now.

The warehouse was barely warmer than the outside and there was no sign of Jim, so Molly went to make herself a cup of tea. She was halfway through her second cup when there was a thud down on the warehouse floor. Molly took a last, bracing gulp of tea, and headed out to face -

Jim, being pinned against a shipping container, with Seb’s leather gloved hand wrapped tightly around his neck.

Molly coughed.

Seb snapped around to look at her, but didn’t let go. Jim turned his head lazily.

“Ah. Happy Christmas, darling. Want to join us?”

“Not now. Jamie, can we talk?”

Jim’s eyes went shuttered. “Seb, Molly and I will meet you in the bedroom in just a moment.”

“No. I don’t think I will, but I expect Jim will be there shortly. It was good to see you, Seb.” She pressed a kiss to Seb’s cheek. He looked confused, but returned the kiss lightly and vanished into the shadows.

“Well, Miss Hooper, what can I do for you?”

Molly took a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Jim. I can’t just live on the edges of your life, waiting to be called in. So, we’re over.”

Molly didn’t know what Jim’s reaction would be. Honestly, that was part of why she’d fallen for him all those years ago. Jim and Sherlock might be more vocal about it, but they weren’t the only ones who found most people boring. Laughter, anger, and chilly politeness had been the top contenders for how Jim would take the news, but bargaining had made the list as well. Jim did hate to lose his toys.

“I understand, Molly, really I do. You want a more active role in the business. I see that now. We can work something out. Come back and live with us. It’ll be like that summer in Bushmills. You remember-” Jim circled slowly around behind her, “-the fun we had.”

“It’s not about the work, Jim. I just want the person I’m with to actually care about me.”

“Ah.” Jim’s eyes lit up. “This is about Sherlock. You know he’ll never really love you. Not like I do. He’ll never know what you really need.”

“You’ve never loved me either, Jamie. I’m used to loving something I can never have.”

Jim actually looked wrong-footed for a second, and if Molly ended up carefully disposed of after this, at least she would have had the satisfaction of seeing James Moriarty off his game.

“I did love you, Molls. I do. I’m sorry you can’t see that I’ll always love you.”

Molly wavered - he sounded so sincere - but then she caught the flash in his eyes that signalled victory, and hardened again. She was tired of being played.

“Be safe, Jamie,” she said with a small smile. “You have a tendency to get in over your head.”

She didn’t even try to kiss him; she didn’t think she could handle that. She just walked away, feeling remarkably free.

—-

Sitting across a cafe table from Seb was the last thing Molly had expected to be doing on Valentine’s Day.

“He’s planning something, Molls. Something big. And he won’t tell me how it ends. The last time he ‘played’ with Holmes, he almost got himself blown up. I’d say he knows what he’s doing, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t and that’s why he’s having so much fun.”

“I don’t know how I can help.”

“Just, has Sherlock said anything? Anything that might tell you what he’s up to?”

Molly frowned and shook her head. “There’s something seriously wrong if his rival knows more about his movements than his lover. Aren’t you still living together?”

“When he’s around. He’s been - out. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Molly said softly, curling her thin hands around the mug of tea. “I mean, there’s something wrong with all of us, but Jim…well, you know.”

Seb chuckled. “I sure do.”

“Just be careful, okay? And - and take care of him. I still love you both.”

“We both still love you. Keep out of trouble, yeah?”

“Not a problem. Who’ve I got to scheme with anyway?”

—-

The Bart’s canteen didn’t do much well aside from drinks, but Molly couldn’t handle waiting on an empty stomach. She didn’t taste a bite of her pasty and it sat like a brick in her stomach after she was done.

Death had never bothered her. She’d seen plenty of it, even caused some herself, and never once had she mourned the cessation of life. But now - faced with a death that wasn’t even real - she was mourning.

Hours passed slowly. Molly finished her lunch, did some paperwork, and straightened up the morgue. And then, just before her shift was due to end, a member of Sherlock’s so called ‘homeless network’ dressed as an EMT appeared.

“‘Scuse me, Miss Hooper, but it’s time. We need you to ID the body.”

“Thank you. I’m ready.”

She wasn’t ready.

Wasn’t ready to identify Sherlock’s body, or write his name on a death certificate, or sign over an autopsied body to the funeral home.

Molly watched the truck pull away, feeling a strange sense of emptiness, and then went to get Sherlock from the office where she’d hidden him.

“Thank you, Molly. For your help.” He turned to go.

“Wait, um. Did Ja-Jim - did he - what happened to Jim?”

Sherlock looked surprised. “Oh. He shot himself.”

“Ah. Alright.”

Sherlock laid a hand on her arm that was not all that comforting. “I’m sure it was part of his plan. He seemed rather bored with life. I imagine his people will deal with the body. Don’t worry.”

And just like that, Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty slipped out of her life.

Sherlock was gone - he didn’t need her help anymore - and Jim was dead - apparently, though Molly found it hard to believe that. And Seb - Molly wasn’t sure what Seb planned to do, but she doubted there would be room in his life for her. Especially without Jim to bind them together. Molly felt like she ought to be more upset about the whole thing; losing so much of her life, just like that, but she was almost alarmingly calm. The empty pit inside of her didn’t feel so much gaping as clean.

With a smile on her face, Molly packed up her things and went home.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is technically complete. The next chapter will be my "DVD extras" aka my ramblings about the story and stuff that didn't quite fit.


	5. BONUS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my rather incoherent commentary about the process I went through to get "Triptych" written, some research, and a few ideas that got cut. Prepare yourself for a lot of rambling!
> 
> For neondarling (on tumblr).

So basically this fic came about because of Sashkash’s amazing MolMorMor art. I think there was some comment about wanting fic of the three of them, and I was like, “I can do that.” It was originally going to be nine snippets (because I’m a lazy bum and didn’t want to bite off more than I could chew); three from Molly’s perspective, three from Seb’s, and three from Jim’s. That was when I came up with the title.

At some point, I realized I wanted to do more, but I liked the title and so kept it and used it to structure the story: the first and third “panels” are the shortest and the middle one is about twice as long as either, mimicking the traditional triptych format.

Here’s the first outline I came up with: Panel One is their meeting, forming the core of their relationship which is a King/Queen/Knight type thing. Panel Two is the sexual portion of their relationship, the part where they grow the closest, but also start to pull apart. In Panel Three Molly stands on her own, they part ways. With the King/Queen/Knight relationship, I obviously kept hints of that and used it when I was thinking about their relationship, but initially I thought I might do a Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot type of dynamic. That ended up not panning out because there was enough other stuff going on.

I wrote an outline of the whole story and started writing Panel One and realized that I was mostly writing from Seb’s POV and the last part was going to be mostly Molly’s POV, so I ran with that and was going to do a part from each of their perspectives. However, I was a bit intimidated by writing in Jim’s voice because it’s so distinctive and honestly rather different from my own. It was easy to connect to parts of Molly and Seb, but harder with Jim, so I stuck to Molly and Seb’s voices and told the story through them. I don’t know if anyone noticed this, but Panel One is all Seb, Panel Two alternates between Seb and Molly with Part 1 beginning and ending with Seb’s POV and Part 2 beginning and ending with Molly’s; and then Panel Three is all Molly’s voice. I often find that the more structure I force my stories/poems to conform to, the more likely I am to finish something, and the more fun I have writing it. Weird, I know. It definitely helped in this case.

I tried really hard to get this story to fit inside established canon and real world events. Obviously it’s not canon, it’s fanfiction, so I took a few liberties, but my hope was that it could be seen as a possible explanation for events.

Here are the first character comments that I did: Seb is a bit of a bully, rough, violence comes easy, everything comes easy. Molly is obsessed with death in the way children can be, quietly creepy but cute enough to get away with it, learns to be invisible. Jim is a master manipulator, never gets his hands dirty and never gets in trouble, people are a bit uneasy around him, but not sure why, eyes too big and smile too wide. Seb and Molly have a lot in common, caught in the black hole that is James Moriarty.

Pretty early on I decided that they would live in Northern Ireland. This decision was probably heavily influenced by “The Anatomist” (Which is incredible, go read it!) and also by abundantlyqueer’s headcanons about Moran being in the Royal Irish Regiment and being kicked out in disgrace because of his loyalist paramilitary work, as well as the fact that Andrew Scott’s Moriarty is Irish. Now, I’m an American and I’ve never been to Ireland or studied much Irish history, so I did a fair amount of research (the most I’ve ever done for any creative writing actually, even though most of it was from Wikipedia) so that I could set it in a realistic world.

Their approximate birth year is 1979; Jim is the youngest and Seb the oldest. This is the year Louise Brealey was born and also seems about right for their ages in canon. They should probably be a few years further apart in age (for a while Seb was in the year above Jim and Molly), but I was lazy when it came time to plot out a timeline and it was easier for them to all be born about the same time. From there I drew out a timeline of major events in the Troubles in Northern Ireland - like loyalist paramilitaries exporting arms from Africa in the late 1980s and the first ceasefire in 1994 - and fit the kids into that timeline. Seb’s father was one of those arms dealers and also, according to canon Carl Powers was killed in 1989 so that had to fit in as well.

They live in a suburb of Belfast. In researching Belfast I learned about the Peace Lines. Peace Lines are separation barriers between Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods. They range in length between 100 yards and over 3 miles, and are up to 25 feet high. Based on her name, I thought it was reasonable to assume that Molly was Catholic, but because of the Peace Lines that would mean she went to a different school from Seb who was definitely Protestant, so I made Molly’s father Protestant while her mother (and her mother’s family) is Catholic. Jim’s family is Protestant, but only in that that’s the side of the line they live on. I actually don’t have much of a headcanon for Jim’s family in this story. He’s probably got a fair number of brothers and sisters and always felt a little overlooked. This is what I mean about having trouble connecting with Jim, he doesn’t want to let anyone in. Seb’s family is Protestant and English; they’re in Ireland because his dad has some sort of government job as well as the arms smuggling. Belfast during the Troubles has been compared to London during the Blitz in terms of social and psychological repercussions on those who lived through it because of the breakdown of the normal fabric of society. Vandalism (especially by 8-13 year olds) was very common, and this seemed like a fitting place for three kids to form the core of a criminal empire. Plus it makes their burning a house down before the age of 13 a little more realistic.

I mentioned assuming Molly was Catholic from her name, so here were my thoughts on the trio’s names:

\- Mary Margaret Hooper: Molly is a diminutive of Mary which means bitter, Margaret means pearl, St. Margaret was swallowed by Satan but escaped, a Hooper was someone who made hoops or lived in a marsh. I knew her name had to be Mary something and she went by Molly, and since it was going to be in Ireland she was probably at least a little Catholic considering her name, so it made sense to pick another saint. Mary Margaret was one of my favorite sorority sisters, and St. Margaret’s story seemed to have some echoes in the story I was telling for Molly, so it worked out nicely.  
\- James Adam Ryan: James - supplanter, to take the place of another, Adam - man of the earth, red earth, Ryan - little king, the family motto is: Malo More Quam Foedari or “I would rather die than be disgraced.” I thought it would be silly of Jim to use his real name in establishing his criminal empire, so he got a totally new name (minus James of course). I looked up common Irish surnames and meanings until I found one that I liked the sound of and the meaning behind. “Little King” seemed to fit Jim perfectly, and the motto is great. I picked Adam because I like the name and it sounded okay with the rest of the name. It’s not the best, but it didn’t really matter for the story, so I left it. (See? Jim is difficult!)  
\- Sebastian Augustus Moran: Sebastian - venerable, revered, St. Sebastian was shot with arrows, Augustus - revered, majestic dignity, Moran - great/big one, “They shine in darkness.” I couldn’t change Sebastian Moran, but I did get to pick his middle name. According to Wikipedia, in the original canon, Moran’s father’s name was Augustus and it seemed like the sort of thing a minor nobleman would do to give his son his name, so Augustus it was. It has a nice ring to it as well. It’s also a bit ridiculously pretentious. He’s the “venerable, revered, great one.”

And while we’re on the topic of names, nicknames! When I was first plotting this story out in my head, I had the idea of each of them having three names. Their “Formal Name,” their “Everyday Name,” and their “Special Name” that only the three of them used. It’s another thing that may not have been noticed in the story, but Seb is strictly Sebastian or Sebby in Panel One, he starts going by Seb after he goes to Eton. They tend to use the special nicknames when they want something or are feeling particularly affectionate. I don’t think Jim or Molly ever goes by their formal name.

Mary Margaret - Molly - Molls

Sebastian - Seb - Sebby

James - Jim - Jamie

One more name, the most important: Moriarty. Someone had a post about “Moriarty” in Latin meaning “to die is an art,” which is cool and kind of works, but the “real” meaning of the name is “expert navigator” and it has an Irish root. Since in this fic, Jim chooses this name, I thought it still worked quite nicely since he’s a “navigator of crime.” The Moriarty coat of arms is a black eagle on a silver shield. The eagle means speed and wisdom, black means constancy or grief, silver means peace and sincerity. The Moriarty crest is “an armoured arm embowed with a sword fessways entwined with a serpent.” The serpent means wisdom, the arm leadership, and the sword justice. I ended up not using much of this at all when thinking about the story, but it’s kind of cool to know anyway.

Fun fact: I think this is the first story I’ve ever finished that didn’t have even a hint of the supernatural in it. Certainly the first since Middle School. Because I haven’t written much realistic fiction, I was worried about it feeling real and using real events was part of how I tried to keep the fic grounded in the real world. A rather large number of the events in Panel Two are based on things that actually happened to me, especially the ones from Molly’s POV. Like the whole, “hey I heard so-and-so likes you” thing. People did that all the time in my middle school. And the threatening a guy with a knife when he pinned me against a kitchen counter (though I didn’t cut him, and, never fear, it was all in good fun, more so even than in this fic). 

Jim and Sherlock are obviously played in the series as very similar, but also sort of opposite forces (though I kind of like the implications that Sherlock could be Jim if situations had been different), but I find that Molly and Sherlock are more alike than either of them might think. They are both very observant of people, but have trouble interacting with them. Compared to Sherlock almost everyone is stupid, but Molly is actually really smart and she sees a lot, partly because no one sees her. I think this is true for canon, but it’s definitely true for this story because in this universe Molly has to be good or Jim would have no use for her; and she is good. Part of why Molly isn’t great with people (men especially) is that she’s never had to be, she’s always had Jim and Seb. I got a lot of Molly feels while writing this, can you tell?

Music: I listened to “My Head is an Animal” by Of Monsters and Men basically the whole time I was writing this. “King and Lionheart” is Jim and Seb’s song (Taking over this town, they should worry). “From Finner” is like their song for starting their life together (far from home, all alone, but we’re so happy). “Love, Love, Love” is Jim singing to Molly (Because you love, love, love when you know I can’t love). It’s a great album.

The rest of this “DVD Commentary” is mostly just snippets of stuff I wanted to include but didn’t have a space for, or notes I took during research/rewatching that I thought were particularly good. I say “didn’t have a space for” because while I could have gone on and on about various aspects of their individual lives, I tried really, really hard to have all three of them in every scene, if not physically then emotionally. “Triptych” is THEIR story, not Molly’s or Seb’s or Jim’s, and so every scene had to reflect that. If it wasn’t about the three of them, it got cut.

\- When they go on their vacation during their gap year they go to Bushmills which is the town near the Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim, mostly because I want to go there.

\- In fiction, sex is never just sex (unless it’s porn). This didn’t really come into play because I ended up not writing much explicit sex, but Jim uses sex to gain power, Seb uses it to express his more base or violent impulses, and Molly uses it to feel a connection.

\- Jim and Seb go to Oxford where they major in Math and Classics respectively. Oxford is in the original canon for Sebastian Moran, and it seemed like a good idea for Jim to go there too. Molly goes to Southampton Medical School (where she has a roommate named Martha who I almost included as a little Doctor Who nod, but again, there wasn’t really room).

\- As an aside, when I first started writing this in my head just as a fun exercise for myself, I had long scenes about Molly’s roommates thinking she was sleeping with two different guys because Seb and Jim could never make it to visit at the same time.

\- Seb joins the Royal Irish Regiment (as per abundantlyqueer’s headcannon)

\- I was going to have Jim send Molly and Seb gifts from his travels around the world, and I planned to have him send Molly either a whole bird skeleton or a crane’s skull, and Seb was going to get a tiger claw necklace.

\- I wanted to include a thing about Jim wearing Seb’s dogtags when he plays “Jim from IT,” but it didn’t make it. Perhaps another fic…

\- Another thing I noticed was that the shirt that Jim wears in the pool scene has a rounded lapel collar that is similar to the ones that boys at Eton wear. It almost certainly isn’t an actual Eton shirt, but it’s close enough that I’m going to let myself pretend that it’s one of Seb’s old school shirts.

\- Seb just is. He’s always himself. Molly’s identity was as part of a unit, when that broke she needed a new identity. Jim doesn’t have a self, so he fills his body up with other identities.

\- I watched the episodes a lot and took notes as research and one of the things that I noticed was after Molly says, “I ended it [with Jim]” Sherlock implies that Molly should avoid relationships because her dumpees go on crime sprees.

\- Molly realizes that Jim is using her to get to Sherlock just as much as Sherlock uses her for things, but she likes the attention (from both of them).

\- In “The Reichenbach Fall,” Sherlock calls Molly ‘John’ and it got me thinking if Jim ever called Molly ‘Seb.’ I think he probably did, but I didn’t find a place for it in this story.

\- Jim doesn’t count Molly as one of Sherlock’s friends because they have both admitted that Sherlock doesn’t love her.

\- I can’t decide if Jim is alive or dead in canon, so Molly couldn’t either. She assumes that he’s dead, but sort of hopes that he survived like Sherlock did.

\- Molly loves people, loves everything about them, which is why she knows exactly how to take them apart.

I wrote the scene where Molly meets Sherlock while on a long car drive and I recorded myself thinking out loud so I could write it down later. This is the transcript of that so you can see how my brain works (or rather doesn’t):

(Terrible Moriarty accent) “Molly dearest, I have a DB that needs to be marked as a suicide - askjdhf - a DB coming in tonight that needs to be marked a suicide. Ta love!”

Molly sighed and hung up the phone.

Uh…something something, she starts doing the examination and then…she’s doing the thing where you talk into the recorder and she’s all like, “Clear signs of suicide, one bullet wound to the head, self-inflicted, gunshot residue on fingers, blah blah blah, technical CSI shit, I don’t know.”

And then she hears a voice, and it’s all like, (terrible Sherlock accent) “Have you even examined the body? Clearly this is murder.”

And she’s like, “I think I can do my job, thanks. And anyway you aren’t allowed in here.” And she turns around and HOLY SHIT he’s hot. And it’s Sherlock. And she’s all like ‘ho shit. I can’t even function you’re so hot.’ Uh, except not even really that, that’s a little awkward, um. I don’t know, no she’s clearly attracted to him and he reminds her a lot of Jim and so she’s all like, ‘oh maybe this is okay, cause you’re pretty cute and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

But Sherlock has to be a little bit unsure of himself - I mean - not unsure of himself because this is Sherlock, so he’s always pretty confident, but he’s like clearly just getting over his- his drug addiction stage and…I’m gonna go with Lestrade has helped him out. I don’t know how Lestrade gets him into Bart’s…maybe he just broke in? I don’t know. Figure out why he’s in Bart’s!

But basically that’s how they meet, and, yes.

I hope you enjoyed this rather indulgent piece of writing. If you have questions about anything in here, or questions about Triptych that I didn’t answer, I will happily answer them!


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